Train To Home

a poem written about my usual friday nights' train to home from the city

Freeze your eyes on the slow
approaching train-to-home
Preceded by electronic wind
that spins your memory
And stops at awkward spot of
expired time and moment
That you never wanted to remember
or tried to forget.

Crowds of reflection appear on
speeding windows
Overwhelmed by plastic blonde
helmets and silicon dolls
Queuing up in systemised
third world chaotic style
And impatiently waiting to drop their
arses on window seats.

Mind the gap between
you and yourself as you on-board
Leave your blood money 'peace'
behind the closing doors
And throw yourself in some corner
of the compartment
Invaded by snobby face alcohol driven
fast food junkie city slackers.